


[Fanfiction] Things Left Behind, And Found Again

by SkyAsimaru



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, being in over one's head, explorer Aziraphale, lots of chibi spiders, researched a lot about spiders for this, seriously if you don't like spiders this fic might not be for you, spider demon crowley, spinoff fanfiction, the chibi spiders are cute though, they make up the bulk of the story really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-26 06:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru
Summary: A spin-off of Entanglednow's "Things Left Behind". While drawing ideas of not-quite-mentioned scenes, words started to flow, and now here we are. This work will be about 3 chapters or so.*add on after ch 5: okay maybe about 10 chapters or so.Basically, more backstory about why Aziraphale came to the mountain temple, more about Crowley's life as a spider demon, and the chibi spiders steal the show.Thank you to Entanglednow, for writing such incredible work :) Now and always, I am entangled in your words. <3
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Things Left Behind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602953) by [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow). 



~

_ "You could stay here with me, Aziraphale. Be a soft thing in this cold, sharp place. I will keep you safe. I will bring you food from the pools and spin you the softest bed you've ever had -"  _

His name. Azirapahle could not remember telling this creature - -  _ Crowley _ \- - his name. Long fingers slid down his face and cupped the round curve of his cheek, warm to his skin. 

_ "Perhaps one day, you will even share it with me."  _

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. The fire in his torch went out. His eyes rolled up into his head, his vision swimming. 

Darkness took over him. 

~

The bar was dingy and dimly lit, candles sputtering and dripping onto the floor, as well as occasionally the tables and chairs. One had to be careful where one walked in here, and not just because of the occasional spill of ale or the trail of mud-caked boots. Aziraphale gripped his full tankard, with no intention of drinking the foul concoction, as he took a seat at an empty table. 

He was listening, and unfortunately, bars were the best place for the idle chatter of loosened tongues.

He would much rather be home in his library, or at the university. 

But he had come here on a mission. 

A blank spot on a map was something he could not ignore. This particular map had come to his collection quite by accident, and under an instinctual call he could not explain, he had crossed over the hills and rivers to find his way here, to this village. 

The closest village to the Forbidden Temple.

Rumors had it there were creatures yet unheard of living there, and caves left unexplored but revered by the local populace. Crystal caverns with mountains of gold, treasures undiscovered in this far-off place. 

Aziraphale had no interest in gold, but the caves - - what kind of flora and fauna might he find there? What kind of interesting specimens, or amazing new sights, might he behold? 

Then he heard it. The whisper of planning off to his right - - a table full of odd men. One larger than life, his voice booming and confident, with a thick head of black hair and a garish lavender scarf no one would dare question him about wearing. A bald-headed man sat to his right, a sneer plastered onto his face. A darker man with large, lizard-like eyes pulled deep draughts of his ale. A pale man with a wild look about him, white hair frazzled like it had been torn out in chunks by his own two hands, glared at everything. A group of people Aziraphale would never dare approach, under normal circumstances. 

But they were talking about the caves, and oh, Aziraphale was curious. He knew generally where he was going, but should he go alone? Should he dare ask these men along, or invite himself to join their party? 

Aziraphale put down his ale, still unsampled, and tugged on his coat nervously. It wouldn’t hurt, he supposed, to ask them what their intentions were regarding the caverns, and to ask them if they needed a guide. He had several maps of the area, and more hands made for light work and all that. Perhaps he could even convince them to carry some specimens back for him. 

Oh, if he could take back that decision now, he realized with the cold clarity of hindsight. He would have just gone to the caves on his own, and had a marvelous time staring at the limestone formations and glittering geodes. None of that nonsense of treasure and treachery, of monsters lurking, hidden in the dark. Of Gabriel’s violent disgust over the spiders, of Sandalphon’s outright terror of them, of Hastur’s greed for the gold, of Ligur’s refusal to acknowledge that something was terribly amiss. 

But then, he would have never met…    
  
Six glittering eyes staring down at him, glowing, iridescent. Fiery gems burning in the dark, looking at him in a way he hadn’t been looked at in a very long time... 

He could feel the darkness growing heavier around him, warm like a blanket, soft like an embrace. A light touch brushed the hair from his temple, and his heart skipped a beat.

_ “Soft thing…wake up.”  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Aziraphale wakes up, meets Crowley again, and I'd say they're off to a good start.  
> o_- I changed the name of the story because it kept ringing in my head that way. Won't embarrass you all with how long I wembled about it. But it'll make sense in the end, I promise.

Aziraphale came to with a jolt. He was still in the cave, he picked up on that right away. The damp. The dark. The chill. He shivered and reached to pull his jacket tighter around himself. It was ripped and damp with the cold, but it was all he had. He had lost his pack not long after the mad scramble to escape the cave had started. Not that any of his notebooks or ruined sample jars would do him any good, now. 

He tried not to make a sound as he carefully pulled himself into a sitting position, but he winced at the sharp pain in his knee, and his intake of breath echoed off the cavern walls. The cave seemed to amplify every sound. His breath came in shallow puffs that whispered throughout the cave. He swallowed. Somewhere in the dark a stream burbled. A few rocks skittered and fell, but all else was silent. 

He was no longer sitting on the rock shelf that Crowley had insisted he rest upon. Instead his bed was made of moss, spongy and soft beneath his fingers. He looked around, at a loss in the dark. Then he heard a slithering hiss, a dry rasping shuffle of something moving in front of him. Six pinpricks of eyes slitted open, glowing like embers. 

“You’re awake.” It was not a question. Crowley lurked there in the gloom, just beyond Aziraphale’s touch. 

For some reason, Aziraphale was not afraid. 

“I am,” his voice was a hushed whisper, reverent with awe. Those beautiful eyes closed and opened again. Azirapahle stared at them as if hypnotized. They were his only light in the darkness. 

Clicking reverberated through the cavern as those long, delicate legs moved forward, bringing the shadow of Crowley’s body closer to Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale remained still. 

“Trusting, soft thing,” the voice tutted, fond and rather soft itself. “What should I do with you?” 

Aziraphale swallowed, his body reacting in an unexpected way as those long, strong fingers that had touched his face earlier came to rest under his chin, tilting his face up to look into those six pinpricks of light. Another hand touched the hair at the side of his face, and another slid back to cup the nape of his neck. Aziraphale’s heart raced. His breath came in shallow, shaky bursts. Then those hands pulled away. 

“You are cold,” the voice stung with disapproval. “Come with me.” 

And like that, Aziraphale found himself taking the proffered hand of the demon - - god? - - creature in front of him, and letting it lead him into the dark. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ligur is acquired, and Crowley finds himself wondering just what the heck he is doing.

It was slow-going with the man-creature hobbling beside him. Crowley debated whether to offer him a ride on his back, but thought it would not be well received. 

_ Aziraphale _ . He had heard the name shouted throughout the cavern walls while he hunted the thieves. The biggest one - - the murderer of his spider brethren - - had sneered the name with a vile vehemence, poisonous words seeped in poisonous hate.

Why had such a soft, kind thing like Aziraphale been wrapped up with such cold and dangerous men, who had no respect for life or beauty?

He took a deep breath. Kept his gaze carefully on the dark tunnel in front of him. He carefully guided Aziraphale left and right, dodging a stalactite here and a stalagmite there, one hand on Aziraphale’s back, another holding his hand, letting the man lean on him for support - - those soft, warm hands gripping his own with a firmness that spoke of a quiet strength. 

Such a soft, gentle thing… 

Crowley could never be accused of being soft. He was a cold, hard, hideous  _ monster. _ He heard as much from whispers in the village below. The humans had once revered him as a god. Now they reviled him as a demon. 

He wondered why this human hadn’t run screaming like all the others. 

Speaking of which... 

“Er, wait here one moment.” He started off to one side, but a gentle tug on his hand stopped him in his tracks. 

“Where are you going?” the human - -  _ Aziraphale _ \- - looked at him with wide eyes and a pleading look on his face, begging not to be left behind.

“S’ just… your...  _ friend _ ,” Crowley’s lips curled down around the word, not quite sure if it applied. “He’s right around the corner, and - - 

“Friend?” Aziraphale echoed, then gasped. “Do you mean Hastur? O-or Ligur? Or perhaps Sandalphon?”

“Look, I didn’t memorize their names, but if you want me to let him down it’s the one in that cocoon over there.” Then, not able to look into those bright blue eyes any longer, he pulled away. Aziraphale, however, seemed intent to come with him, hobbling quickly after and stumbling over every step. “Argh, come on,” Crowley hissed, grabbing him by the arm and supporting his weight again. “We don’t have much time.” 

He hadn’t bothered to remember the names of anyone else in the party, but he had remembered Aziraphale’s. That name had struck a chord in his heart, ringing in his mind like a church bell on a clear summer day. Crowley gulped. He couldn’t help but feel like he had tipped his hand. Surely the human would  _ notice _ . 

He did not, or if he did he said nothing. 

They stopped in front of a strung up sac, wriggling like a worm on a hook. The man’s head was exposed, but his body was wrapped in a web of sheer, gossamer silk. There was a thick rope of it across his mouth, looped over his chin and head as well, preventing him from speaking. 

“Ligur!” Aziraphale froze. “I had rather thought,” he suddenly looked very embarrassed, “that you might have eaten him.” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He would have scoffed if the thought hadn’t been so unappetizing. 

“You humans aren’t exactly high on the list of delicacies, Aziraphale.” 

“Y-yes, quite right,” Azirapahle nodded, as if he had any experience to agree on the matter with. 

What a silly creature, Crowley smiled. Oh he was going to have fun with this one. 

“Well,” he drawled. “Let’s let down your friend, shall we?” he lifted his foreleg and stabbed down, the sharp hook on the underside of it ripping the webbing away. Ligur fell to the ground, trembling and snuffling. 

“Y-You- -” he started to rise to his feet, then stumbled and fell back to his knees. He gagged, then retched with a violent force that left him shaking after. 

“Side-effects of the venom,” Crowey explained at the look on Aziraphale’s face. 

“Is he going to die?” Aziraphale asked tentatively. Crowley shrugged and crossed his arms.    
  
“Not unless you want me to do him in for you,” he cast Aziraphale an amused look. “But with a bit of water and rest, he should be fine.” 

“Oh, er, no. No murder necessary,” Aziraphale began moving forward. “But thank you, for letting him down.” He felt his way carefully along the wall until he reached Ligur’s side. “Come on, old boy. There’s a good chap. Up you get.” 

At first Ligur threw off Aziraphale’s hand, then he retched again with enough force to actually throw up, and this time he kept his head down. He didn’t protest when Aziraphale helped him to his feet a second time. 

_ Soft, strong, pretty thing… _ Crowley observed.  _ Much too kind for this world... _

He wondered, yet again, what Aziraphale had been doing with such cold, heartless men. 

He would find out. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. Not with those puny arms and miniscule number of legs. 

Without a word, he nodded to the direction of the caves, indicating for Aziraphale to follow, then led the way down the tunnels, Aziraphale half-carrying this ‘Ligur’ beside him. 

What a mess he had gotten himself into. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein chibi spiders make their appearance, and start to steal the show.

Aziraphale gasped. 

“Oh, Crowley! What is this place?”

It was absolutely beautiful. A soft, bioluminescent glow drifted from mushrooms and flowers that Azirapahle had never seen before. A small stream, stocked with freshwater fish, burbled along the left side of the cave. A galaxy of glittering geodes lay embedded in the walls, casting shimmering pinpricks of light all around them. 

Crowley turned around, somehow more stunning than he was before, cast in the ethereal glow and twinkling lights. 

“My home,” he said simply. 

Aziraphale didn’t realize his jaw had dropped until he suddenly closed it, as Ligur uttered a weak shriek and jostled sideways into him. He looked around to see spiders - - dozens and dozens of spiders of various sizes - - gathering around the cavern walls. It was almost like they were welcoming them, eager to get a look at their new visitors.

“Oh, how dear,” Aziraphale whispered. One of the spiders, a bold, black and red colored fuzzy thing, swung down from the ceiling on a thin strand of silk. Aziraphale lifted his forearm for it to land on. Ligur immediately sprang away, throwing himself back a good foot, but Azirapahle brought his arm to eye level and turned his head to look the little fellow in the eyes. “Hello, there,” he chuckled. “I do say, you look familiar...” 

A chirrup greeted him back, almost like a purr, really. How curious. He hadn’t realized spiders could make such noises. 

“He cleans up well, doesn’t he, when he’s not soaking wet.” Crowley crossed his arms. Aziraphale gasped, delight fluttering in his heart.

“No! This can’t be the same one.”

The spider chirruped again. This time it was a sort of sing-song noise. 

“He likes you,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale glanced up into those six golden eyes, then quickly looked away. He couldn’t look into those eyes for long, afraid of what he might find there. He looked back down at his new companion, instead. 

“He really is rather handsome. Such a friendly fellow.” 

“Just shake him off if he bothers you, or if you get bored of him.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, raising the spider to shoulder level and allowing it to hop aboard. “I would never.” 

Ligur could not be convinced to move out of the corner he had thrown himself into, a small space that was relatively spider-free. He huddled down and turned away, and refused to engage in anymore conversation. Aziraphale sighed as he drew himself back, then followed Crowley to the center of the cavern, pain in his knee forgotten at the sight of the beauty all around him. 

“You have a beautiful home,” he whispered. 

Those six eyes suddenly winced, nervous. 

“It’s a bit of a mess. I… don’t often have visitors.” 

“I can imagine. But I must disagree about the mess. I find this garden absolutely marvelous.” Aziraphale took a step to his right, and as he did his hip brushed against Crowley’s flank. Soft hairs tickled the small patch of exposed skin beneath his torn jacket and shirt. He gulped, suddenly afraid his heart would pound right out of his chest, and he couldn’t have that, now, could he. “Er, could you tell me what these are?” He carefully squatted down next to a lavender plant, lush and sweet-smelling, and giving off a soft purple glow. 

Crowley blinked and ran a hand through his hair. “Never thought to give them a name, before,” he mumbled. “You can name it, if you like.” 

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Name it whatever you like,” Crowley insisted. “I created it, from a combination of forget-me-nots and foxfire, if that helps.” 

Aziraphale decided he would simply call it “Crowley’s flower”, and left it at that. 

And so they spent the evening enjoying each other’s company, Aziraphale resting his leg while Crowley talked about plants and limestone composites around the cave. He described the various fish that swam by in the babbling stream, and confessed to a longing to someday see where that stream came from. Aziraphale enjoyed watching Crowley talk, all animated movements and excited gestures once he got going. Aziraphale in turn shared stories of his time in university, of his work as an Anthropologist, turned part-time Archeologist and Biologist as the occasions arose. Ligur remained off to one side, wide-eyed and staring until suddenly he was asleep. Crowley and Aziraphale dropped their voices down to a whisper to avoid waking him, at Aziraphale's insistence, and their hushed tones lent further intimacy to their conversation. Finally, Aziraphale started to nod off himself, yawning and barely able to keep his eyes open. Crowley stood and stretched his long arms toward the cavernous, gem-encrusted sky, then lowered a hand to help Aziraphale up. 

“Come along, soft thing," he whispered. His eyes glowed in the plant light. "I’ll take you to bed.” 

Aziraphale nearly choked, remembering Crowley’s earlier temptations, but instead found himself led to a bed of moss, rich and deep and oh so soft and sweet-smelling. He settled himself down, and his eyes were just beginning to close when he suddenly sat up.

“Oh! But, this isn’t your bed is it? I don’t want to take it from you - -

Crowley chuckled, throwing a coy look over his shoulder. 

“I am a spider, Aziraphale. I sleep in a web.”

And oh, Aziraphale realized he had not seen anything, yet. There was still so much more to discover. But it would have to wait until tomorrow, or whenever he woke up. He wasn’t sure what time it was anymore, but he suddenly found that he did not care.

Warm, safe, and content, he relaxed into his bed of moss, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. 

~

Crowley watched Aziraphale sleep for a while. He was a vision when he was asleep, all soft and peaceful. The other man was asleep too, but Crowley didn’t care about him. Bloody nuisance, who would be more trouble than he was worth, Crowley was sure of it. 

But Aziraphale had seemed to care that the man was alive. Then again, Aziraphale might be the type of person to care about everyone. The small spider he had rescued from the water lay nestled against him, snuggled into his side like a dog. 

They hadn’t eaten dog in a while, Crowly thought tangentially. Then he realized: he hadn’t bothered to feed Aziraphale, had he? Fuck.

That wouldn’t do. Aziraphale would be hungry when he woke, it was only natural. Putting off his own sleep for now, he followed the stream to a small pool, where he reached to pluck several fat fish from the water with his bare claws. 

But - - humans didn’t eat their fish raw, did they? Crowley stopped to consider this. He couldn’t remember if they ate raw fish or not. It had been so long since he had last interacted with a human. 

Sighing, he dropped the fish back into the pool and continued off down the tunnel. He knew what he was looking for, and it probably wouldn’t take long to find. 


	5. Chapter  5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ligur speaks, Aziraphale sketches, and a spider is named.

A soft thud next to his head roused Azirapahle from his slumber. He blinked for a minute, trying to make his eyes adjust. Surely he was seeing things, because - -

“My pack!” 

Crowley stood before him, his upper arms folded across his torso, his lower arms sheepishly, awkwardly, holding several fish. 

“Thought you could use it to make a fire, with whatever you’ve got in there. You seem the type to prepare for everything.” 

“Oh my goodness, dear, yes! Thank you.” 

Crowley shrugged at the praise and shuffled off to one side. “I’ll just clean these, shall I? The vines to your left are surprisingly good for burning.”

Aziraphale took his advice, and started a small fire. The smell of cooking fish woke Ligur up, who reached out, wordlessly, for his share. There was a small glitter of calculation in the man’s eyes as he looked around at the geodes, glimmering in the firelight, as if panning them for their worth. Aziraphale hoped he wasn’t plotting to do anything foolish - - he was certain they were guests here and not prisoners, afterall - - and he was just about to turn to his own meal when Ligur surprised him by croaking, 

“Any signs of Hastur?” 

It was the first words he’d spoken this whole time. 

Aziraphale was at a loss as to how to respond. “N-no,” he said gently, well, as gently as he could. The memory of Hastur, greedily shoving gold into his pockets, snarling at the rest of them, rose sour in his throat.

“What about Sandalphon?” 

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Not even Gabriel?” Ligur’s voice was tight and hollow, like he was about to cry. 

Aziraphale bit his lip. The last he’d seen of Gabriel was when the man had thrown a stick of dynamite back at the entrance to the temple, quickly turning to rubble their only way out. 

He couldn’t tell Ligur all that, though. No need to make his day any worse by telling him they had been abandoned. So he simply shook his head, and left it at that. 

Ligur took his morsel of fish and turned away, baring his back to the room. The shuddering of his shoulders and choked sniffles told volumes of his despair. 

Crowley was surprisingly silent the whole time, as if listening to the exchange. Upon closer inspection, however, Aziraphale realized he was asleep, all six eyes closed in a meditative silence. 

_ Beautiful _ , he thought to himself. He wished he could say the words out loud, but for some reason, he did not want Ligur to hear. 

He left Ligur’s side and approached Crowley slowly. A longing to look into those beautiful eyes squeezed his chest, but he settled instead to gazing upon Crowley’s red, fiery hair. Those pale lips. The tips of two fangs protruding from the upper corners of his mouth. Those markings on his cheeks, tribal-like. Strong, rough hands made for climbing, and those long, black legs. 

An anatomical impossibility. But an absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful one. 

Aziraphale saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and smiled. Dozens of spider ‘children’ watched him from above, on a stone shelf set into the cavern wall. Curious, grapefruit-sized sentinels, watching over their master. 

“I mean him no harm,” Aziraphale whispered. “I simply find him the most magnificent creature.”

The spiders purred back at him, their chirrups and clicks reverberating throughout the cavern. Ligur whimpered and covered his ears, and Aziraphale shook his head at his compatriot. He stood up and headed back over to the poor man, and sat by his side until he felt more at ease, or at least at ease enough to resume eating. In the meantime, Aziraphale contented himself with his sketchbook, marking down the existence of those beautiful plants onto the rough vellum pages. 

The chirruping of the spiders was only interrupted once more by Ligur, who yelped when one broke free from the group and made its way over to them. It was the same fellow who had fallen into the water before, seemingly content to follow Aziraphale everywhere. Aziraphale lifted him up onto his lap before Ligur could do something reckless and foolhardy, like step on the sweet creature. 

“I think I’ll call you Arachni Junior,” Azirapahle whispered into the spider’s ear- - or rather, where he imagined a spider’s ear to be. Did they listen through their heads or through their feet? Oh dear, he did have a lot to learn. 

He resolved to ask Crowley everything he could about spiders when he awoke, but in the meantime, he sat down to sketch, his notebook filling with page after page of flowers and spiders and gems. 

And, after a while, he dared to sketch Crowley. Heart thumping with each stroke of his hand, the pencil scratched across the page slowly at first, then with more confidence as each minute passed. Arachni Junior watched the image unfold curiously, feet occasionally tapping the page as if noting the details, then purred with an unmistakable satisfied sound when the image was finished. Aziraphale was glad for the company, particularly when Ligur fell asleep again, not that the man had been much company to begin with. 

The fire burned late into the night, but Aziraphale no longer felt like sleeping. He lay back on his moss and watched Crowley instead, breathless with fascination. Arachni Junior fell asleep on his stomach, legs twitching occasionally like a dog in the throes of a dream. Aziraphale stroked the back of the creature with the gentle absentminded attention one would give to a cat. 

He was suddenly grateful that he had set out on this adventure. He felt more alive here than he had ever felt at the university. And although he had been left behind, he had been found again, by someone who was kind and trustworthy, an anomaly of man and spider. Aziraphale closed his eyes, Crowley’s image burning beneath his eyelids, and listened to the hum of the spiders. A song, he realized. A lullaby. His breathing slowed, his body relaxed, and he wondered what other discoveries the days ahead might bring as he inevitably drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  



End file.
